Haunted
by RubySandybanks
Summary: "Silently, he scolds himself for his irrationality about this. After all, this boy is nine years old, and what fool would be afraid of a nine-year-old's eyes?"


**Author's Note: _So this is the first ever fanfiction I am publishing on this page, and it's also my first "Ace Attorney" one as well. This perspective was kind of tough to write in - I haven't chosen the easiest one, that's for sure! - so I hope nobody is acting violently out of character.  
_**

 ** _Also, feel free to inform me of any mistakes you spot - though I am from Germany as well, I'm no member of the von Karma family, so I'm afraid my English isn't that "perfect". ;)_**

* * *

 **Haunted**

Seeing the boy's face properly for the first time, his eyes are the first thing he notices. He hates them instantly – those grey orbs staring at him, filled with self-consciousness and maybe a bit of curiosity. There is something… _piercing_ inside them; something that seems to possess the ability to see right through him; something that seems to _know._ He is relieved when during their flight back to Germany, the boy falls asleep beside him – finally those eyes aren't watching him anymore.

Silently, he scolds himself for his irrationality about this. After all, how can this boy know – _he can't possibly know, there is no way, he has been unconscious_ – he's nine years old, and what fool would be afraid of a nine-year-old's eyes? He's being a _Dummkopf_. Nothing more.

But still… even when they have arrived at home, the boy's gaze seems to follow him around, _haunt_ him even, and he can't stand it anymore. He sends the boy up to his room to unpack. What is it about those eyes?! Maybe it's just the colour of them that puts him off… _but no_ , he thinks as he watches his two-year-old daughter running down the stairs to greet him; her eyes are almost of the same grey as the boy's and there is nothing strange about them _._

No matter how hard he tries, he cannot find an explanation for the effect the boy's gaze has on him. All that is necessary for the child to make him feel uneasy is to simply _look_ at him and no matter how he struggles to just simply ignore it; this uneasiness, this feeling of being watched follows him around to the point where he even starts to dream about it. In most of these dreams, he's in this courthouse again, in front of the open elevator, pistol still in hand, looking down on the man that has shamed him only a few hours earlier. A satisfied smile pulls at his lips as he sees the blood slowly spreading over Gregory Edgeworth's shirt, darkening his black jacket – _finally gone, finally_ _silenced_ – and then he looks to his side, recoiling in horror as he sees the boy standing there beside him, eyes glaring up at him, _knowing_ , and he wakes up, gasping, sweaty fingers clenching at his shoulder, eyes widened, before he realises it has only been a dream. _Nobody knows_.

But that _something_ inside the boy's gaze has burned itself into his mind and won't leave him, though it does fade out of those eyes gradually, as the boy grows into a young man; it diminishes to the point where it's not recognizable anymore, and he feels relief wash over him as he looks into Miles Edgeworth's face now and the only things he can spot in his eyes are guardedness and indifference. That haunting nuance has finally disappeared. He is free again.

* * *

" _Objection!"_

It isn't the voice that nearly has him back away as he opens the living-room door, nor is it the fact that there's a finger accusingly pointing at him. No, it is the eyes staring at him; narrowed, fierce, inquisitive –

– _he's back in the courtroom, being exposed, being found out, being_ _ **penalized**_ _, staring at the man on the other side of the room, hatred raging inside him, wanting to –_

"I'm so sorry, Sir!"

He's abruptly pulled back to reality by the boy's voice, whose eyes are now averted, back to their normal expression. "I didn't mean to… to scare you… Franziska wanted to practise for court, and – "

"You… have not… _scared_ me." He spits that word out so venomously the boy visibly flinches. "Go up to your rooms and continue your studying. Both of you."

"Come on, Franziska." The boy must have sensed his anger, since he hurries to leave the room, pulling the girl lashing out at him with her riding crop – "Miles Edgeworth, I can walk fine on my own, let go of me this instant!" – with him. It is only after the two have left and their steps have faded that he grows aware of his hand still frantically clutching at his right shoulder. Rage fills him.

Edgeworth… You will pay for this. And if it's the last thing I do.

He smirks. Soon, in a few years, the time would come to set the plan in action he's had on his mind since he has first laid eyes on this boy. And then, finally, after so many years, his revenge will be complete.

* * *

 _Perfect_.

That's what he thinks as he sits in the detention centre's visitor's room, looking at the young man sitting opposite him behind the glass window. Miles Edgeworth is wearing what one would call a straight, unreadable expression. He knows him better than that, though. He can see through his charade.

"It is quite a shame."

The man shifts uncomfortably in his chair and tries his best to keep eye contact with him, yet the insecurity is now clearly visible in his grey eyes. If there is something left of that gaze that used to irritate him so much, it is so shallow that he doesn't acknowledge it consciously.

He leans forward.

"Edgeworth." After all those years, this name still feels like venom on his tongue. "I have raised you as if you were my own son. And this is how you thank me? By dragging my – _our_ family name – through the mud?"

Some sort of resistance flashes over the man's face – "I didn't…", he tries to argue, but one warning raised hand silences him again.

"I don't want to hear a word. You have disappointed me _._ "

He rises from his chair.

"I have tolerated much from you, but _this_ … this has gone too far. Murdering a man – you should have known better."

The man's gaze is averted sideways, his arms tightly crossed over his chest like he is hugging himself for support. It won't take much more for him to achieve what he wants.

"I came here to let you know that I am personally prosecuting this case."

The grey eyes turn back to him, slightly widened, the shock evident. But he wants something more than that.

"Y-You – "

He can't suppress the urge to smirk at that small, weak voice so unlike the man's usual tone and he leans down until he's on eye level with the man on the other side of the glass still seated in his chair.

"Correct. So, do you finally see? There's no way to escape."

And, just as that, the last bit of Miles Edgeworth's carefully crafted mask _breaks_ , and he feels glee course through his veins, as those grey eyes look at him with nothing but utter defeat. He leaves the detention centre soon after, a smile still on his lips, as he memorizes this sweet, sweet moment of vengeance; a moment he has been anticipating for _years._ That haunting look is now completely gone from this world… as Miles Edgeworth soon will be as well. His last enemy – eventually completely and utterly shattered.

And – the smile on his lips widens as the thought comes into his head – there is absolutely nothing _that man_ can do anymore to stop him from getting his revenge. Though he does admit he would have loved to know what the expression on his opponent's accursed face would have been like, if he could have seen his beloved son's downfall. He looks up to the sky, bright blue, despite the fact that it is the end of December, chuckling quietly to himself.

 _I hope you're watching._

* * *

How… how… _how?!_

He – he is perfect! His _revenge_ has been perfect! How could he have –

Teeth clenched, hand clutching his right shoulder, he glares across the courtroom at that damned, bumbling defence attorney with his foolish spikey hair whose gaze is boring into him in almost the same way that _his_ did all those years ago – _no, it can't be, he's dead, he's dead, he can't look at me anymore_ –

His plan – his plan has been _perfect_ – Miles Edgeworth should be the one desperately searching for a non-existent way out, not him –

He barely hears the judge address him. All he feels is rage, hot, boiling _rage_ and the urge to strangle that man in the blue suit – this is all a fraud – a _sham_ –

"So – it was you!"

That hard, cold voice only manages to raise his anger even more as he turns to look at the man still on the witness stand – and he nearly reels as he sees that _that_ look has returned to those grey eyes staring at him; fierce, _knowing_ … and in that moment, everything suddenly _clicks_ into place. As he feels that burning glare of his adopted son on him, he realizes that all this time, it hasn't really been Miles Edgeworth's stare haunting him.

It has been _that of the man's father._

And Manfred von Karma lets out a furious, angry, defeated roar as he finally understands that he has never really managed to kill Gregory Edgeworth.


End file.
